


Cold

by taylor_tut



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cold Weather, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are stuck in a cold car together on the side of the road until a blizzard passes. Pure fluff.





	Cold

"Crowley, please, why don't you just take my jacket?" Aziraphale asked, not for the first time since the car had broken down. They'd slid off the icy road a few hours ago, but with the blizzard still in full swing and with no sign of letting up any time soon, they appeared to be stranded. They'd called for help, but all roadside services were suspended until further notice unless it was an absolute emergency and this, though uncomfortable, was no emergency. To top it off, they'd cut the engine off in an effort to conserve gasoline and battery, but when the temperature had gone just south of chilly and began to border full-blown cold about half an hour ago, Crowley had tried to turn it back on only to find that the engine was too frozen to start again. 

"Because," Crowley replied, his tone dripping with exasperation that was undercut by the chattering of his teeth, "then you'll freeze." 

"You're already freezing," Aziraphale pointed out. "I can handle the cold a little better than you can, dear." It wasn't meant to be an insult, but cold always put him in a bad mood, so the comment was not well-recieved. 

"I can handle it just fine," he snapped. As if to directly betray his words, he shivered hard again and crossed his arms, hoping that maybe he just looked miffed but knowing Aziraphale could see right through that. 

Wordlessly, Aziraphale slipped out of his jacket and draped it over Crowley's body. It was warm from his body heat and a bit big for him, which made it all the more irresistable, and instinct meant that he was snuggling further into it before he could stop himself. He pried tired eyes open to glare, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

"Don't fight me on this," he said lightly. "You can't deny that you need it more than I do." 

Crowley muttered something offensvive and affectionate under his breath. 

"If you get too cold, you'll take it back," he said, the conditions of the compromise, and Aziraphale nodded. 

"I promise." 

"Don't even ask—just snatch it. I won't be mad."

"Anything you say, dear."

"I really mean it," he added, and Aziraphale smiled coyly. 

"Or," he suggested as a happy medium, "we could just sit in the back and share it." 

Crowley was opening the door and settling into the back seat, firmly pressed against Aziraphale's warm side, faster than he could have miracled them both there.

 


End file.
